Once Upon A Rainy Eve
by borntoflyhigh
Summary: {AU}There's was an irregular love story; for one they were polar opposites, hardly capable of bearing each other's company without ending up in argument. But then again who knows what powers a fake elopement, a made-up love story and a week to gain what they wish for might hold... Prequel ATCAD. Yasu/Masako
1. Beware Of The Darkened Corridors

**'Once Upon A Rainy Eve'**

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own GH... I'm glad I didn't, I would have made a muck of it anyway._

**A/N: **_So I'm really nervous about this series - and really confident too, mainly because it's a completely new thing I'm trying. Yasu and Masako were never really seen as a couple and I have not found any stories centered solely on them, so I made one of my own ^-^" Hope you like it. Review, maybe? Ehehehe..._

_To Yukino Amai and Rebecca (Guest) - this story is dedicated to you._

_And to anyone who knows what it's like when expectations run high._

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><p>'<strong>W<strong>_e cannot express how infinitely sad we were when Lord Davis broke his betrothal with Miss Masako Hara, last night. And here we were, rejoicing the match of two perfect people in a sensible contract – it's a pity don't you think? Ah, what a failure, the middle Miss Hara is to her family; and to think that she might not even make another match. 'Tis a real pity – she is pretty after all._

_Though not as pretty as her elder sister. Did anybody notice the way Lord Yasu winked at Miss Emilie Hara over his dance with Miss Harper. Although the direction of his wink was clearly ambiguous, he couldn't have winked at Miss Masako could he have? _

_She is too flawless for men of his tastes. And too dull, of course.' – _The Snitch. October 1810.

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><p>Overhead a clock chimed midnight…<p>

And she started running…

Her breathing was uneven, a series of gasps and sobs that she had stifled inside the ballroom because nobody could see the chinks in her façade. Not when he steered her towards the stage, a hand on her waist as one last gesture of whatever remnants of affection he had for her, not when he raised the crystal glass towards her and broke their long-lasting engagement in twelve short words, not when a thousand people looked at her as if she'd turned into an invalid when she descended the stage after him, not when her mother sternly signalled for her to maintain the customary cheerful smile.

Not when she was breaking on the inside – like a china cup that shattered when flung to the floor.

Twelve words – she twisted the silk on her gown, fisting it in her hand, madly weaving her way through the labyrinth of darkened corridors – twelve words that obliterated the goal she'd been striving to achieve since infancy, twelve words that negated everything that made her like this, twelve _counted _words that made him seem like a fragment of imagination; faraway, out of reach…

Out of _her _reach.

She stopped suddenly, her breathing hitched as she spotted a dark alcove at the end of a deserted corridor.

She needed a place to hide herself, a place where she could cry as much as she want because at the end of the night she had to go back to the ballroom, smile plastered to her face, feet light as she danced. At the end of the night, she had to show that she was resilient, at the end of the night – nobody could see her grief. It was ironic really – a night ago she had the whole ton worshipping her, the future wife of Lord Davis, a striking bride for him and now – now, she was the girl who _had _been engaged to him. The night continued a floor below, the sound of the festivities nothing but a jumbled symphony of din to her ears; crystal tinkled together, laughs echoed in the grand hall, the orchestra clanged away at the instruments as if nothing note-worthy had happened to her.

As if she was a scene in the past – came and went away like an unknown moment.

Masako knew better than to hope for that.

She crouched herself into a ball under the alcove, hiding away in a corner, bathed in complete darkness – ladies didn't cry in broad daylight, they cried in corners and in the end, their tears were never visible, their grief was never public.

Tomorrow it would start, her personal hell to perfection; tomorrow her mother would mourn loudly at the breaking of the engagement, reminding her in every waking moment that _she _was responsible for this, that she'd failed somebody again, tomorrow The Snitch would write a scathingly sympathetic column dedicated to her, tomorrow her fake friends would coo at her loss, secretly pleased because after tonight, the perfect Lord Davis would be an eligible bachelor again, free to marry anyone…

Masako wanted to laugh scornfully – he wouldn't marry anybody else, he loved her, _her_, she was perfect for him and he needed her, he just needed some time to realize how much. After a few days he'd return to her, after a few days he'd realize that she was all that he could ever need, that she'd spent her entire life preparing just so she could be perfect for _him._

He had to come back – there was no alternative to it – he _had _to return…

To _her._

Her quiet sobs echoed in the alcove and she wished there was some way she could alleviate the pain, when everything else around her was a blurred vision, the pain was acute, the pain anchored her to the dark recess.

"I hope you don't mind if I tell you something."

She gasped sharply, her eyes darting to locate the owner of the voice but her eyes knew nothing but the dark.

"If you're trying to cry away quietly, you're doing a lousy job of it."

Her heart beat increased as she tried to find a silhouette in the dark. All voices had an owner, did they not?

_Unless they belonged to…_

She gulped, searching her reticule for anything, a weapon, a lighter, a… a…

"Oh come now, you're not scared of me, are you?"

_Unless they belonged to a… ghost…_

She heard the faint sound of objects clanking together as the owner of the voice exhaled slowly as if shaking their head and started to rummage in their pockets for something.

For a moment there was a complete silence in the alcove, not even the sound of her breathing could be heard – it was almost as if… as if… there was nobody in the alcove except her.

Until she heard the ticking of a cigarette lighter, followed by a brief flash of light that died away as quickly as it came – only to let her see that she was talking to a man. She saw a glimpse of a diamond stickpin that was in his cravat but could see nothing else.

Masako allowed herself to breathe…

"You were scared, were you not?"

She turned her head towards the voice, her eyebrows raised.

What was this person doing here, in the alcove? At the same time as her?

"I wasn't scared." She replied flatly, congratulating herself when her voice came out just as she wanted, cool, calm, no hint of the tumultuous cries she'd been exuding earlier. "I was just – "

"You were scared." He said firmly, a hint of a laugh underlying the voice. "I didn't think you would be. You didn't bawl when you were on the stage. I was anticipating something more violent from you than a mere 'I-support-his-decision'"

"_Who are you?"_

He merely shrugged, or she thought he had. "That's immaterial." She heard the vague noise of the lighter at work and saw the flare of red flame again, this time falling on his neck, giving her a brief glimpse of it, nothing but splayed shadows on skin. "What's important is that you were scared and I succeeded in my mission."

She was about to say something when he interrupted her again.

"I will grant you this, you do run very fast." A pause followed the sentence before he spoke again, his voice wry. "Imagine the shock I was given when a damsel flung herself into the same space in which I was seated, quietly thinking about my dissolute life."

She merely stared at him, trying to determine whether he was in his cups or something along those lines.

Or whether she was an idiot for still being there.

"I'm surprised Noll called you staid. There's nothing even remotely boring about you."

It was strange how an inane conversation with a person she barely knew had made her forget the main reason she was hiding away in barely lit niches. It just took one mention of his name to make her mind whirr through the various memories of her misery and she sniffed, feeling the tears distorting her vision once more this evening.

"Here take this." She raised her head, eyes squinting, barely aware when he pressed something in her palm. A handkerchief. "- and don't cry. This occasion warrants celebration."

Celebration?

"_Celebration._" She croaked, humiliated at the retirement of her manners. "My fiancé decided that he didn't want to marry me and you're saying that– "

He merely chuckled.

"You escaped the clutches of evil perfection. You should be immensely happy – though I do wish you'd done something dramatic on the stage."

"Dramati-"

"I would be happy to provide ideas." He paused as if thinking deeply. "You could have swooned, or broken the wine glass over his head, you could have sworn at him or even better – "

"What do you know of him?" She retorted snidely, wishing he'd leave her alone whoever he was. "He is high above people like you, he's a _lord, _he's a… a…"

Masako found herself looking for words – eyes widening when he laughed in response to her statement, carefree, as if her words did not affect him one bit.

"He's a lord…" She repeated, struggling for more adjectives to attach with Lord Davis' name, appalled internally. "He's _perfect, _he's a – "

"He's an ass." The casual reply and the sound of the lighter at work again made her look up at the stranger who tugged at the cigarette as his mouth tipped up, his words jumbling up due to the cigarette in his mouth. "If you ask me – he did the right thing in the wrong manner tonight."

Was he insulting _her? _Did he mean that she was not good enough for Oliver?

"If you mean to insult me, then I'll let you know that I was perfect for him." She hadn't talked like this with anybody, with this amount of emotion venting in her tone. "I was pretty, accomplished, polite. I was flawless. I was _perfect._"

"Which is where you go wrong about Noll." He pointed out. "What he needs is a good, healthy dose of imperfection, doused over his head like cold water on January."

She stared hard at the stranger, unable to decide his personality. What was he doing hiding away in corners – more importantly why was she still there, having a role in this stupid conversation.

Masako stood up… dusting her silk gown.

"I should be leaving." She said, more to herself than to him. "I've been warned of rakes that roam in these parts."

"Ah yes, of course." He seemed to be nodding in affected understanding. "And which rakes are these?"

She thought for a moment, searching for a name and it popped in her mind immediately.

The name of her arch-nemesis, the name of her unseen enemy, the name of the person who was about to ruin the future of her sister by marrying the silly girl.

"Lord Yasu for example." She said decisively.

The stranger stiffened for a moment before he took the cigarette and stubbed it as if musing in his own world

"Hmm… he's dangerous." He finally agreed. "But you have to agree that he _is _charming, never mind his old age."

"I hate him." Her reply was dry.

"And he's after your sister… maybe he'll marry her."

That made Masako remember her mission for the night. Today was the first time she would meet Lord Yasu and she had to make sure that he would not even look at her sister, rather than contemplating marriage with her. She picked up a handful of her skirts and turned to the stranger, his handkerchief in her outstretched palm.

The stranger looked up at her but she saw nothing but a glint of grey.

"No, you can keep it." He closed her hand over the handkerchief and she tried not to notice the tingles that erupted over the skin. "As a souvenir of our meeting."

She nodded at nothing in particular and turned to leave when his voice stopped her.

"And Masako." She wanted to tell him that he couldn't use her name, that she hadn't allowed him to but she stood there in the doorway, her back to him, hanging on to his words. "You deserve better. Better than him."

She ran away, again – a strange giddiness in her stomach which she dismissed as a result of the pudding that she had taken a bite of but the voice rang in her head, like a shadow following her, even as she danced at the ball, chatted as if her life was still normal, withstood the glances and the hushed gossips that rang in the ballroom about her

_You deserve better._

Even as she sat with her elder sister, listening to her talk about Lord Yasu incessantly, she thought about the stranger, whoever he was, his words and found herself staring into space, like a confused little child.

_Better than him._

She thought about the man in the dark even when her sister pointed a finger, squealing, towards the infamous rake Lord Yasu – she glanced at her unknown enemy.

She saw a familiar glint of grey.

In her mind she was ready to dismiss him, one look and she was ready to revert back to thinking about the words the stranger had said, dissecting them until they scattered in her mind.

But when she saw him, Lord Yasu, she froze.

In her seat.

Over the distance, their eyes met and he held her wide gaze for a moment, before he winked at her.

_Winked _at _her._

She stood up, eyes wide, stance frozen and strode away from her seat, finding a little corner by the refreshment table, all the while feeling his gaze at her back.

_Please don't let him be him._

Her hand searched for the stranger's handkerchief in her reticule and she held the soft fabric in her hand, her heart fervently praying that the grey eyes were a figment of her imagination. That the stranger was someone other than –

The initials on the handkerchief made her lips part.

_Someone other than…_

The initials were two neatly stitched alphabets.

'_O. Y'_

Osamu Yasuhara.

_All along it had been – _

Him.

The word rang in her head, everything around her vanishing as she stared at the handkerchief in complete incredulity.

It could not be...

_He _could not be -

_Lord Yasu…_

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><p><strong>AN: **_Review? Suggestions? Criticism? All are highly appreciated and taken into account. Hope you enjoyed this introductory chapter thing. I'm also working on ATCAD and I'm done with it's rough draft and a one-shot I'm musing about. My exams still go on =.='' I did well in the first round (scored awesome in English XD) except for the Biology exam, that sucked._

_Cookies~_

**-borntoflyhigh**


	2. The Midnight Rendezvous

'**Once Upon A Rainy Eve'**

_**The Midnight Rendezvous**_

**Disclaimer: ****I do NOT own GH. The idea for the plot is loosely based on Tessa Dare's novel 'A Week To Be Wicked' is solely her property. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N****: **_Hello everyone! It's been quite some time since I've posted anything but well – I updated this one. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – really guys, it means a lot._

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><p>"<em>When a girl trudged through the rain at midnight to knock at the Devil's door, the Devil should at least have the depravity—if not the decency—to answer."<em>

– _A Week To Be Wicked/Tessa Dare_

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><p>"<em><strong>W<strong>__e miss Lord Yasu – truly we do… without his wild adventures to report to the ton, this column seems empty and unfamiliar. Ever since the charming rogue has departed for Spindle Cove (or Spinster Cove to many) London society has been nothing but bleak. We're also missing Lady Hara who now lives in the aforementioned village – but really? Who truly misses a stickler for propriety?_

_Not us – we thrive on scandal. We pride in it." – _The Snitch, May 1812

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><p>Masako Hara had always prided herself on being a sane, rational individual – which meant that there was absolutely no reason for her to be out in the rain, at this late hour, standing outside the house of an infamous rake's house of <em>all <em>places.

She gathered the cloak tightly around herself, gritting her teeth in annoyance as her silk slippers caught on the rocks, the rain drenching her from head to toe.

She was going to kill her sister. _Kill her_. Maim her dead body.

Once she was through with Lord Yasu - that is if he would be sober enough at this time of the night when he should reputedly be indulging in drink and debauchery. She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't answer or if he answered in drunken stupor or really, if he even recognized her because even though he was devastatingly handsome – there was no pretending otherwise – he had the attention span of a goldfish.

Or some even smaller organism – right now she was too tired to recall names.

Her pale, slender hand reached out to knock on the door once more, the wet oak scratching against her hand making her even more irritable. He was a depraved rake, wasn't he? So why was he living in the ruins of a long abandoned castle when he could have found a more luxurious apartment right in the village.

"Lord Yasu!" She had always been one to abide in hushed whispers but this was urgent. Her hand beat at the door mercilessly. "Open the door! I know you're in there!"

If somebody heard her, there was no response which made her clench her fists and stamp on the ground.

But no - Lord Yasu _had _to follow her family from London to Spindle Cove, he simply had to roam around Emilie, he simply had to come because he'd known that it would spite her. Everything that Lord Yasu did had a warped way of getting entangled with her business, just like this one. This matter which could destroy multiple lives.

"Open up you – you –" Masako struggled with her voice, trying to temper it – instead her hand just beat the door until she was sure either the door would give way or her hand would separate from her body. "Open up, you life-destroying idiot!"

She had never called that anyone… she hadn't even dared to think it but right now, as she stood outside his door, shivering as water droplets chilled her – Masako hated him more than anyone on the planet. And that, was saying something.

The sound of footsteps from inside the house made her take a deep breath.

She had roused him. Thankfully.

"Monk – is that you darling?"

The affected, faint voice grew stronger as he approached the door.

_Not __**this**__ again…_

Masako almost groaned in frustration, letting her forehead rest against the cool door – it was an inside joke between Earl Takigawa and him, it was another thing that only Lord Yasu appreciated it, Lord Takigawa otherwise known as Monk for his contrary-to-name habits, ran for the hills whenever Lord Yasu started the joke.

The door was suddenly swung open and Masako lost her balance, stumbling as her head connected with something warm.

Something with a steady heartbeat.

And just as luck would have it – her forehead now rested against Lord Yasu's chest.

"Well – this night just gets surprising." His hands came around her shoulders as he straightened her, probably to peer at her face – which was what he did next, a smug smile tugging his mouth upward. "A female approaching me."

If he knew who she was, he would not even look twice at her, she was sure of it… that was when she noticed that he wasn't wearing his spectacles.

Well – she couldn't blame him, he was near blind without them.

She shifted in his almost embrace, batting his hand away in disdain. "It's me, Lord Yasu."

"Hello Me, it certainly is very nice to meet you."

Masako didn't know what to do except that she was ready to strangle him if he didn't answer her normally.

"It's me. Miss Hara." She paused for a moment before carefully adding. "Masako."

The change in his expression was instant – the smug smile vanished into thin air, replaced by a thin, contemplative frown.

"The prickly cactus?" He asked sceptically.

She despised that sobriquet but if she wanted to get her way tonight, she would have to talk on his terms, no matter how dumb they were.

"Yes."

"Oh, well." He raised an eyebrow at her, running a hand through his rumpled hair as he stepped aside from the doorway, doing the thing she thought was the least possible. "Come in."

She chose not to reply, not when she was a bit afraid and apprehensive.

Masako followed him inside the house – marvelling at the fact that he transformed the ruins into quite a comfortable home. A cheerful fire glowed in the corner, a simple table was placed in the centre of the room, bearing some wine bottles and tea-cups.

His back was turned to her as he rummaged in a pile at the far end of the room, probably for a shirt.

She was thankful for that – shirtless men had a way of unnerving her.

_Not that you've ever seen shirtless men except him. _A snide voice at the back of her mind commented.

"Well Miranda." He straightened, carelessly throwing a shirt over his head before he reached for his spectacles. "I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my depraved, nocturnal adventures."

_Masako._ She wished he would remember her name, regardless of his dead brain.

"I'm sorry that I interrupted your routinely decadence." Masako settled herself in a chair, annoyed when her back straightened even in this informal setting. She was breaking rules and she cared about posture of all things. "But this was a matter that could not wait."

He poured himself wine, sipping it as he leaned against the wooden table. "Has someone died?"

She shook her head. He was the last man who she would come to if someone did.

"Has Monk professed his undying love for me?" This was accompanied by an wolfish smile that had a deeper, more wicked meaning, one that made her shiver.

"He's a married man." She said matter-of-factly, annoyed that she wanted to fidget. "Most importantly he's a _man. _So are you."

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in a manner that said 'one-can-hope'.

"This is about – " She was interrupted when he came to her side and started untying the knot that held her cloak in place, his fingers barely brushing against the column of her throat. "What are you - ?"

"You're going to freeze, Marianne." He removed the cloak, bending down to get rid of her slippers. "And if you catch pneumonia in my house, I'll be a tainted man."

She barely heard him, she was too busy trying to arrange her disrupted train of thought, the only words that escaped her were strangled. "Tainted man?"

He looked up at her, grey eyes glinting wickedly.

"Oh you know, inhospitable rake and all." He smiled, holding her ankle straight as he removed the soggy slippers. "You are a half-wit, coming out to see me in silk slippers…"

He moved away from her and she finally allowed herself to breathe.

She was an intellectual person but this man made her nervous…

"I'm here because of my sister." She squared her shoulders, allowing a forbidding look to take over her face as she gave him a pointed, determined glance. "I'm not going to let you marry her."

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><p>Lord Osamu Yasuhara – Fifth Viscount Rokuryo had never imagined that he would ever see <em>her <em>within the vicinity of his house – much less inside of it but as Masako Hara delicately sipped the wine he'd provided, he didn't know how to behave.

"Oh." He paused for a moment, absorbing the reason for her scandalous arrival. "Right. I see."

He was a rake, an intelligent one at that but this was a situation he had never anticipated and as far as surprises went, he was shocked that he hadn't already died after it had dawned on him that the girl beneath the wet coiffure and cloak was Masako Hara – the proper, perfect sister of Emilie Hara.

The proper, perfect spinster who would commit suicide before knocking on his door.

"No you don't." She gracefully stood up, shedding the grey coat he had previously replaced with her cloak. "You don't see, my lord. You are ruining not only her life but mine as well."

"What has this got to do with your life?" Well, if he hadn't seen a bigger actress than her – and people called him melodramatic. "As far as I know, I proposed to your sister, not you."

She paused in her pacing and whirled her head to stare at him.

"You _proposed?_"

He wouldn't admit it but her chilled words made him think of a dark thundercloud.

"Yes." It wasn't the complete truth but he wasn't exactly known for being the paragon of truthfulness – he was just a manipulating rogue who got his way.

"Oh God." He was surprised at the blasphemy, he'd always thought her to be so prim that it hadn't occurred to him that she might say something like that. "Oh God, this is disaster. This is – it is… catastrophic…"

"I'm sure it's not that bad. Having me for a husband cannot be so sick a prospect."

She closed her eyes.

"Did she say yes?"

How would he know, when he had never asked… the truth was that he was amused by this girl. She had dared to come to his house against all rules just to stop him from marrying her sister, something he wasn't so eager to do anyways. Emilie Hara was just making it seem as if he was attached to her, when he was clearly not – so when her younger sister barged to his house, determined to stop him, he couldn't help but play along with it.

"No." Most girls would say that to a proposal. "She said she needed time."

Masako exhaled delicately, not an ounce of consternation on her face. She was like an expressionless doll, so composed, so in control even when things went chaotic. He had observed her, her expression calm while the world tipped itself around her – he had watched her smile beatifically even at the breaking of her engagement.

"I think that is the only wise thing she has ever done in her whole life."

"You're too cruel." He was coming to like her as each minute passed. "She did a wise thing by meeting me."

She shot him a disdainful look.

"I have a proposal for you, my lord." The graceful beauty intertwined her hands in her lap. "I want you to run away with me…"

Yasu did a double take – suddenly straightening as he set away the wine glass in his hand.

"You want me to _marry _you?"

Masako made a sound which sounded like a delicate, feminine snort.

"Run away with you, yes." She paused. "Marry you? God _no_."

He decided to take offense at that.

"Now look here woman – "

She silenced him with a stony look (one that secretly reminded him of Noll's death glares) "I know that Viscount Lin won't release your funds until your twenty-first birthday – which is a year away or until you marry."

Smart woman.

It was true – Viscount Lin was in charge of all his property and money until he was twenty-one as dictated by his parent's will. The truth was that it seemed as if all the parents in the world had left their children's guardianship in Lin's hands; take him and the Davis twins for an example.

Maybe it was because Lin was capable of making you dig your own grave with one look when you asked for a lenient hold on funds.

"You want me to elope with you – but you don't want to marry me. Is that it?"

"Precisely." She looked up at him, lips upturned in a half-smile. "For someone with useless habits, you're turning out to be quite smart."

"For someone so prim and proper," He retorted. "You're turning out to be quite scandalously daring."

"Point taken."

"I still don't understand the ploy." Yasu crossed his arms as if bargaining the cost of Hessian boots with her. "What will I gain if I take part in this mad scheme? I will be deprived of a beautiful wife, the natural comfort of my house, the respect of my peers – "

She harrumphed at the word 'respect'.

"- Furthermore, Lin will behead me, no doubt."

"What you gain is five hundred guineas." She brushed an invisible lint from her sleeve. "There is a symposium to be held in Scotland. On the development of the human mind – it has the prize of five hundred guineas. If I win – which I know I shall – I'll give them all to you."

Five hundred guineas? Merely on a fifteen inch sleep-inducing essay on the development of the measly human mind?

He could do well with that money. Hell he needn't depend on the meagre pin money that Lin gave him each month until his birthday. But this could destroy her reputation and his as well. The tattered pieces of his that still remained

"Look, Minerva – "

"Masako."

"Oh right. Masako." He may have been a man of few morals but they were still there, no matter how vestigial they might be. "Look. I won't do this – I _am_ a rake but even I have honour."

"But it is possible." She didn't look shaken at all at his rejection of the plan. "We can simply stage a fake elopement, letting the village believe we've been –" she paused, a faint colour rising in her cheeks. "-carrying on for some time."

"But then I'd have to marry you and as you so clearly enunciated; that isn't on our agenda."

"Well." She twisted her fingers in her lap. "We could break it off – I'd say that we weren't compatible and that I released you from the marriage."

"And who would believe that." He scoffed – he wasn't cruel but well, with her, he said the wrong thing every single damn time. "Who would believe that I could fall for – "

Ooops.

He saw her expression darken as she stood up. How could he say that? He was a cad, a scoundrel of the worst degree but really, how could he - ?

She came to stand in front of him, closer than propriety dictated and her hand reached out to touch the lapels of his shirt; he vaguely observed the firelight adding colour to her face, twin flames reflecting in her grey eyes, hands clutching at his shirt, looking up at him with a quiet strength. It was a strange moment, as if one that occurred in drunken stupor, as if all that remained between them was this moment.

Him and her.

"You're right." Her voice was soft. "Who indeed?"

He would have winced if he wasn't so mesmerised by the glint of merged golden and grey in her eyes.

"I'm too dull, too staid for people like you. For men like you. How could I forget that _crucial_ detail."

"I'm sorry." Lord knew they were true but she just smiled mirthlessly at his apology. "I shouldn't have said that-"

"But it was my fault for building such an implausible plan." She was about to move away, turning her back to him but he was quick and he was tangled in his own thoughts. His hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her back – until they were in the same position.

"I can make them believe." He said, determined to fix this mistake. He bickered with her but that didn't mean he didn't respect her. "I can make them believe I fell for you."

She scoffed. "Please, spare me the pity – "

"No." He silenced her when he tipped her chin up with a finger. "I _can _make them believe."

"My lord – "

"I can make them believe that I followed Emilie in hopes of unearthing _your_ personality." He stared right down at her, the words tumbling out. "That I was always observing _you_. That I could see a light to you – your compassion, the way you could face anything without breaking, the way the sunlight caught the glint in your eyes." His heated words just made her look up at him, mouth parted in surprise. Hell, he was shocked to his being too. "That I could see the intelligence in your eyes, the way you talked, the way you walked all the way to my house just to make sure that I wouldn't harm your sister."

"My lord – "

But he was too far gone – his usually practical thoughts swimming in a haze as he observed the shadows splayed across her face.

"That you have the pretties eyes, I wouldn't insult them by comparing them with oceans and lakes. They deserve some other word, something just made for you. That underneath all my teasing, I secretly desired you – secretly wished that you were –"

God knew what he was blathering on about.

And he would have gone on and on about everything his eyes had caught if the feminine laughter hadn't echoed in the room.

Moment shattered.

The laugh went on and on, coming from his bed on the stair landing and he cringed.

He'd almost forgotten _she _was there too.

Masako stumbled back, her eyes wide, the first sign of emotion displaying in them and he watched, hating himself as she collected her cloak and shoes, her breath coming in fast gasps.

He'd made a laughing stock of her – in front of a woman he'd forgotten was in his house.

"Here let me help." He went over to her, trying to take the wet cloak from her hands but she surprised him by slapping his hands away.

"Stay away from me." Her words were icy and he knew the moment when her guard was up again, when her walls were erected again, throwing him out of the domain. "Stay away from me. And my sister."

"Masako – please, at least."

She whirled around to face him.

"I hate you." Her words, so lethal, so cold were worse than anger, maybe because they were so true. "I don't know how you can face a mirror every morning. You could have sent me home but you chose to humiliate me. In front of some woman you're… _entertaining_"

"It's not like that – if you'll – "

She looked at him and he saw that he had really hurt her, if the single tear on her lashes wasn't enough evidence.

He felt something settle inside him. Hard and heavy.

"I don't know how you manage to sleep at night."

And it was his undoing. That lone tear as it slipped down her cheek following her words. It proved to be his undoing.

She shut the door behind her before she could catch his words.

"I don't."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Masako just didn't have the energy to move about.<p>

She felt as though she'd been travelling in purgatory all night – the unknown woman's incredulous laugh ringing in her head. She should have known – how could she have let him carry on like that; as if he truly did know her. For a moment she'd been fooled, when he'd concentrated his sharp gaze on her, speaking all those words as if he felt them and she'd been bewitched.

Just with a few rehearsed lines.

She felt drained but that hardly deterred her mother from almost dragging her out of bed, all the while chirping happily that Lord Yasu would propose today to Emilie. Masako had wanted to thunk her head into the nearest wall – he'd already done that, last night he'd just proved how capable he was of breaking her foolishly romantic sister's heart if he had juggled with her own. Only if Emilie would reject him.

But she wouldn't do that – nobody in their right mind would.

"We're going to the assembly. He's bound to be there." Lady Hara had thought aloud, redoing Emilie's hairstyle the third time. "And when he looks at Emilie in this beautiful blue gown, he'll propose."

"No he won't." Masako had been compelled to add as she brushed her hair.

Her mother had turned to shoot her a pointed glance.

"You have no room to talk, young lady – not when we're in this godforsaken village because of you."

And it was all it took for Masako's heart to clench.

Two years ago when Lord Davis had broken their engagement, the men had turned their attentions away from her causing talk in the town. She could almost remember the pain of it, the expression on her mother's face as she had gazed at their empty parlour.

"_We're going away."_

She'd come here to remain in a self-imposed exile until the talk abated and so here she was. Standing in the assembly room at the village's tavern watching the couples dance. With any luck _he _wouldn't be here and this would go well without her dissolving into a puddle of mortification.

Minutes passed and yet there was no sign of him coming.

Half an hour passed and she allowed the stiff muscles in her neck to relax – it seemed that she needn't worry about him coming.

She was almost tapping her feet to the music by the time an hour passed, in considerably higher spirits than before. He wasn't coming – that was enough to lighten her mood.

But as it happened, the moment she was actually beginning to enjoy herself – the music stopped and heads swivelled in the direction of the door.

_Not him…_

"It's him!" Lady Hara exclaimed. "Emilie you must dance with him."

_Don't come here…_

"Oh look!" Emilie breathed reverently, eyes wide. "He's coming over here."

Something in her sank as she watched him make his way towards where they were standing. She'd always wondered how it would feel if he came towards her, not Emilie, sauntering in that devil-may-care way, his mouth turned up into a bone-meltingly charming smile.

And so when he stopped before them, his hand outstretched as if asking for a dance, Masako almost wished that –

"May I have the honour of this dance?"

Her mother nudged Emilie but her sister didn't move.

No one moved, no one breathed and finally it dawned on Masako what was happening.

He was asking _her._

Her mother gaped at them, at his outstretched hand and Masako was sure she was looking up at him with thinly concealed astonishment.

Everything was frightfully still, until he spoke again, louder, as if announcing something.

"Miss Masako Hara. May I have the honour of this dance?"

She just stared, barely aware whether she was nodding or shaking her head but acutely aware of the gasps around them. He was her nemesis, everybody knew… but then -

So when the music started again, a symphony of mellow notes and he pulled her into his arms, shockingly close, whirring her about the room as if she was a weightless feather with a besotted smile on his face, it struck her.

_He was acting. Pretending._

He was following the plan.

And so far it was working.

The thought of a charade gave Masako, the energy to smile back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Well what do you think people? _

_I haven't updated my stories because I've been having exams. In fact this story is on hiatus till 28__th__ of May, the beautiful day when my exams would end. As for ATCAD, I will try to update it next weekend but I make no promises, if I fail to update, simply assume that it is too on hiatus till the aforementioned date. Review please, comments and suggestions are extremely valuable!_

_Cookies~_

**-borntoflyhigh-**


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